


Laces

by seven league boots (memphis)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Worship, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Consensual Kink, Cuticle Butter, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Keith in a Corset, Lingerie, M/M, Mild Painplay, Mild S&M, Mirror Sex, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut, Teasing, Top Lance (Voltron), corsets, keith in fishnets, keith in lingerie, thirsty lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15375384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memphis/pseuds/seven%20league%20boots
Summary: Keith and Lance play a game. The results are too tight to call.(Hint: They both win)





	Laces

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely anonon17, Keith in a corset with possessive behavior and biting. Lots of love and Honey Badgers to my awesome beta.

 

 

 

"How does it feel?"

 _Like a hug_.

Keith doesn't say that though. Instead he bites his lip, slowly parsing out the thought. He knows Lance is just checking to see if the corset is too tight, or too loose. But his immediate reaction is that he feels _held_ , even without Lance laying a finger on him. It feels like...

It feels like _love_.

Keith clears his throat quickly. "'S good," he says.

"I can take you down a notch or two," Lance is on his knees, looking up at him. Keith looks down, smiling at him. There's nothing but worship in those blue eyes. Hunger and fascination with every inch of Keith, from the fishnet stockings he's strapped carefully to the garter belt, to the black satin hip-hugging panties. and the lacy black and red-ribboned corset strapped around his waist.

Keith shakes his head, "I can take more."

"You're sure?" he asks, standing to run the backs of his fingers along the length of Keith's arms, feather-light touches leaving shivers and gooseflesh behind. "It looks really good right now," Lance bites his lip, leaning closer, breath tickling Keith's ear. "Or do you _want_ it tighter?"

Keith nods, slowly. Half-lidded eyes because he's in that good, good place between dreaming and _Lance_.

"I need to hear the words."

"I _want_ it tighter," Keith rasps. "Make it tighter."

Lance scrapes teeth against a bare shoulder, almost a bite, but not quite. Kisses his skin instead. "Okay, we'll take it in a notch. But if I see you turning purple, and it's not because of some surprise half-Galra awakening–"

"I'll be good," Keith says quickly, "I'll tell you if I'm hurting, I promise."

"Mmhmm," Lance drops down to his knees again. "Better be good this time," he mutters and Keith lets out a breath as the lace loosens. He watches in the mirror as long, agile fingers untie the ribbons with ease.

Those long fingers... Keith nearly loses himself in a haze of lust. He loves those fingers. He loves sucking them wet and warm, loves the feeling as they push into him, loves how deep they can go and how gentle they are.

How strong they become when Lance holds him down during a nightmare, how they can pin his wrists to the mattress as he writhes and screams in pain or pleasure.

How they blur the lines between both.

Lance's fingers are etched with permanent callouses from flying, and plucking guitar strings. To anyone else they're a necessity of Lance's job and his hobbies. They're a neat party trick with a zippo lighter that elicits both gasps and applause when Lance shows off the limits of his pain tolerance.

Only Keith gets to feel their true skill when they press into his body.

Only Keith gets to kiss them one by one, in absolution, when they're sore or burning from fire or battle.

He's brought back down to his body when he feels the corset pulling tighter around his waist, just one more notch from before. He gasps.

"Too much?" Lance asks, pausing to loosen it again.

Keith shakes his head, trying to find his voice, it's harder the deeper he falls into the trance and pull of the image he sees in the mirror.

The person there is him and not-him. They look beautiful, confident, _sexy_.

Lance keeps saying that's what he sees when he looks at Keith no matter what he's wearing.

Someday he'll believe him. But for now, this is what helps bring that image to life. And _fuck_ , does it make him feel good.

Lance likes making him feel good.

"Keep going," Keith says. And he's pulled tighter.

Lance carefully re-ties the red ribbons into a bow, fluffing it out with a smile as he finishes. "How is it now?"

"It's perfect," Keith says, and then jumps slightly when he feels teeth scrape the underside of his left cheek, exposed from the tight black undergarments.

"You're perfect," warm breath on his backside. "It's gonna be hard, you know you're driving me crazy already."

"You're gonna be hard," Keith crosses his arms, expression challenging as Lance stands with a groan.

"Halfway there, cupcake." Lance cracks his knuckles and turns around. Keith reaches for the borrowed pair of jeans, his shoes and black shirt.

He slips the jeans on carefully over the stockings, letting them settle on the slighter waist created by the corset. The shirt goes on the easiest, and he makes sure to leave it loose and billowy. "That's the game, isn't it?" Keith says, looking over his shoulder to where Lance is worrying his thumbnail between his teeth.

Lance laughs quietly. "Not a game when we both win."

"Last time I won," Keith smiles as he slides into his boots. "Took you less than half the day to break."

"Took you less than ten minutes to break after that," Lance says with a grin. "We both won."

Keith remembers coming undone in Lance's arms, crying his name into the crook of his neck and digging rivets into his skin with a vise-grip as Keith held him close, grinding his hips down on Lance's cock when he came.

Lance tilts his chin up. "You with me?"

Keith hums, "I like it when you win too," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck, haven't even started, and you're already gonna make me lose it," Lance sighs, holds his watch up and Keith takes his out of his pocket, sliding it black on his wrist. They synchronize.

"Usual stakes?" Lance says.

"Mmm," Keith nods. "Start the timer?"

"Wait," Lance kisses him deeply, tongue licking into his mouth and tasting him. He pulls back, ignoring Keith's whimper. "Gotta start on the same level, yeah?"

Keith scans Lance's face, his pupils are blown wide and his eyebrow is already twitching. "You're not even gonna last a varga this time." 

"What a varga it'll be," Lance winks and they both hit start on their timers.

 

**

 

The game is simple.

"Sorry," Lance says, bumping into Keith far harder than necessary, steadying him with hands on his hips, putting pressure on the corset. Reminding him of what's hidden beneath his clothes, what only the two of them know about.

Keith hisses, but regains his balance, and counters by leaning back as Lance's hands pull away, making sure his palm brushes the back of Keith's shirt, where he can feel the thick laces through the thin cotton.

"It's okay," Keith looks over his shoulder, smiling at Lance. Teeth digging into his lip and probably leaving marks behind.

One time, Lance bit his lip so hard it _bled_.

But not this time, Lance's expression resets and he returns the cocksure smile with a wink. "Any excuse to have me put my hands on you, huh clumsy boy?" And he gives Keith's ass a quick pat before sidling away out of the room.

"Ugh," Pidge says, dropping her spoon into her lunch. "I'm done."

Allura giggles, and leans forward, chin resting atop her hands. "I think it's so sweet how you two still flirt like when you started dating."

"Yep. Gave me cavities then, and now those cavities have cavities," Pidge says twirling her lunch absently, making swirly shapes. Or maybe it's a Fibonacci spiral, she's being rather meticulous in her movements.

"I think it's sweet too," Hunk adds, "my parents are still like that."

Keith looks away, flushing red. Not from the idea that he and Lance would be married with kids some day, just the image of an older version of Hunk wearing lemon-yellow lingerie pops in his head and he does _not_ know how to process that image.

He ends up staring at Shiro who gives him a reassuring smile. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, I want something like that too, someday."

Keith has to excuse himself because now Shiro has invaded his thoughts next to Hunk wearing a white fur-trimmed camisole and angel wings like a Victoria's Secret model, and he has to go hide in his room and laugh until he's gasping for air.

He only regrets that extra notch for a moment, as he collects himself and stands back up.

The game is still in play.

 

**

 

Three vargas of accidentally touching, bumping, tripping, and leaning ever-so-casually against Lance and he's still not giving up. Keith is starting to feel a bit frantic now that Lance is on the offensive.

And Lance's offensive are those god damn fucking _fingers_.

He's sitting there in the lounge, just casually chatting with Allura about something or another, and filing his fingernails with an emery board. One by one, holding each up in the air for Keith to see, gently buffing and working his nails down to the quick, then softening them with lotions and scented cuticle butter that he swears keeps them healthy.

When it's really just to torture Keith, thinking of those softened, gentle fingers moist and deftly plying him open with just the slightest pressure. Curling inside him and squeezing until his vision goes white.

Keith tries to shake it off, and literally shakes so much that he drops the stylus he was using to scribble on his data pad with. It rolls over to where Allura and Lance are sitting and–

They don't notice.

Keith stands up, walking to them, and with a quiet, "Pardon, I think I dropped something," he bends over to pick it up off the ground, feeling his shirt ride up and his pants slip down in all the right places.

If Allura sees anything, she's either polite enough to keep quiet or isn't fazed at all by what Keith's wearing. Lance however, snaps his emery board in half and curses.

Keith smiles over his shoulder, holds the stylus between his teeth and adjusts his shirt back down.Lance nods, stopping his watch with a sigh.

He turns to Allura. "Sorry Princess, I just remembered something Keith and I have to do. Stick a pin in this one for next time?"

"Of course," she nods, blowing on the clear polish she paints her nails with. Lance stands to leave with Keith but she whistles slightly to get their attention back, holding up the jar of cuticle oil.

"Right," Lance nods, snatching it away and shoves Keith out of the room with a gasp.

 

**

 

"Three and a half vargas," Keith says between breaths and kisses. "Impressive."

"Gorgeous little minx. I fucking love you," Lance growls. "One day I'll win."

"You do win, I keep telling you, mmph–!" Keith moans as Lance's mouth seizes his own again. Lance's hands work clever and fast, removing the clothing Keith's covered himself in and then he's back where they were earlier that day. Lance on his knees looking up at him like he's a fucking statue to worship, fingers running down Keith's legs as he settles on the floor of their bedroom.

Keith shivers, exposed again, the chill in the air of their bedroom and from the feather-light touches he feels through the fishnets.

"The mirror," Lance says, staring up and catching his eyes. "Want you to see how fucking sexy you are right now."

Keith nods, padding over to where Lance had draped a sheet over the floor-length mirror, throwing it to the side. He takes in his messy hair, lips wet and slightly kiss-swollen, catching the light.

Lance is behind him now, practically purring into his ear. "Gorgeous," he says, leaning close and pressing his crotch against Keith's backside so he can feel how hard he's made him.

Keith's breath catches, feels the length of Lance's cock through his clothing pressing into his cheek. He tries to twist around but Lance's fingers are holding him steady. "What do you want?"

Keith leans back, grinding against Lance. The game isn't really over, and he knows there are a few more moves left to play. "Want you, want to make you feel good like..."

He trails off, head falling back, hitting Lance's chest. He's behind him, solid and steady and hard and aching for him.

"Say the words," Lance murmurs, kissing along the length of his pale neck.

"Want to make you feel as good as you make me feel," Keith says, dreamily. "You make me feel so beautiful."

"You are beautiful."

"You make me feel strong."

"You're the strongest person I know."

"You make me, mmm," Keith turns to whisper to Lance, like it's a secret he's keeping. "You help me be someone I'm comfortable with seeing in the mirror. You let me feel sexy on my own terms."

Lance growls. "Fuck, _Keith_ , I'm gonna lose it," he buries his face in Keith's hair, hiding his expression. Keith smiles.

"It's true."

"Damn it."

"You win, Lance," Keith says, swaying his hips, "I'm yours. Whatever you want to do."

Lance breathes deep, centering himself, hands wrapping around Keith's body. Keith holds them in place, his own covering those gorgeous fingers.

"Okay," Lance blinks, looking up and catching Keith's gaze in the mirror. "Whatever I want?"

Keith nods.

Lance takes the jar of oil out of his jacket pocket, taking it off along with his shirt.

"Is that really for your cuticles?" Keith asks with a raised eyebrow.

"It's for something," Lance says, kicking off his shoes and socks. Before the jeans come off, he hooks his thumbs in the waist of Keith's hip-huggers. "Off?" Keith nods and wiggles as Lance pulls them all the way down.

Lance loosens the laces of the corset, but leaves it on. He doesn't want to constrict Keith's breathing, but knows he wants it on. "Hands and knees, Gorgeous. Facing the mirror, wanna let you see how amazing you look when you come undone."

Keith obliges, grin stuck to his face now, the excitement and the anticipation making him shiver. He hears Lance opening the jar as he's behind him now.

He expects cold, wet sensations like their usual lube but instead it's comfortably warm, and he groans in pleasure. Leans back against Lance's fingers. He hears a chuckle.

"Haven't even started the fun stuff," Lance says, second finger breaching his entrance.

"F-f-fuck," Keith fumbles, head dropping. It's not just warm, but it's _warming_ him from the inside. "What is this?"

"Cuticle butter."

"That is not fucking cuticle butter! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " Keith screams. It's still warming and Lance is curving those devilish fingers against his prostate and how is he so goddamn hard already? He's twitching, twisting against Lance's touches, one of the loose ribbons brushing feather-light against his too-sensitive cock, making his eyes tear up.

"Cuticle butter, keeps your nails from getting brittle, prevents chipping or hangnails, dry skin, super-emollient. Makes your skin softer, and more _pliable_."

Keith's eyes are wet and his vision fuzzes but he can tell that Lance has that fucking _look_ on his face as whatever the fuck miracle oil he's procured turns his insides into warm velvet and he nearly comes from just two fingers gently rubbing against his entrance.

"Fucking liar," Keith spits out.

"What? You think I got the jars mixed up with some kind of aphrodisiac-laced self-warming gel-based lubricant that I picked up at the last swap moon? That's just silly, Keith. I'm just making sure my hands are nice and soft for you so when I grab you and fuck you until you scream yourself hoarse, I don't leave any scratch marks behind like last time."

Keith blinks the tears down his face, eyes focused back on the mirror. Lance is naked behind him, sheathing his hard cock in a condom and covering it with the same gel he's been using to stretch Keith open. 

"Haaah," Keith pants, "I like... those scratch marks..."

"Yeah?" Lance says, lining up his cock with Keith's entrance, the tip just pressing slightly against him.

"Yesss," Keith says, "I like... seeing them in the morning... Marked by you... Loved by you..."

Lance smiles, white teeth gleaming, "Gotcha," he pushes forward and Keith cries out, Lance's cock deep inside him. "Need you... closer now," Lance says, and pulls Keith up, rearranging them to stand, hands holding Keith by his hips.

Keith's still facing the mirror, but now he's watching himself rock back on Lance's cock, slowly grinding as Lance sinks teeth into the crook of his neck and Keith screams, his shaky hand rising, holding Lance there, _right there_.

He's sweating, wet from the heat of their bodies, the strain, and the soft slickness inside him. He feels loose and tight all at once, like his body was made to be fucked into by Lance's cock. It's the warming of the lube making him open up, and whatever else is in the mysterious jar that causes his walls to constrict and draw Lance in as deep as possible.

Keith is nothing but sex and pleasure and his hair pulled and body twisted and he catches the image of them in the mirror.

Lance isn't looking at their reflection, just staring at him, at his disheveled face and licks his lips like he's hungry.

Keith tears his eyes away from the mirror to turn and face Lance.

"I love you Keith," he says.

Keith comes shouting his name over and over until his voice breaks and he falls forward.

He's crying and no, no Lance can't stop now. He's babbling, begging him to keep going, that he loves him, he needs him to finish inside. Needs him to nail him to the ground and fuck him raw until they can't see. Needs to be so full of him that it spills and stains and he wants to smell like his sweat and wants his teeth marks tattooed on his fucking neck. He loves Lance, he loves him so fucking god damn much it makes him lose his mind and forget to breathe, forget to eat or sleep or _fuck–_

Lance's lips are on his shoulder again, gossamer kisses moving to settle against his nape. Now licking sweat away and if he wasn't so fucking spent that alone would stir Keith back to hardness.

"You always win," Keith cries into the floor.

 

**

 

Lance is carrying him to bed. No more corset or stockings. Soft, clean shirt and loose cotton drawstring pants. He feels damp from the shower, but his hair isn't sticky from sweat and there's no more spunk drying on his chest or lube in his ass. Everything's reset, back where it needs to be.

He's gently laid down on the bed, atop clean sheets and a fluffy duvet. Keith stirs, eyes fluttering open with a soft smile. Then it drops because there's the shift. A changing of the guard.

Because Lance is on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Biting his thumb hard, and Keith can tell the skin's about to break and bleed.

"C'mere," Keith says, sitting up and pulling Lance against his chest. Keith tucks Lance's head under his chin. "You hear my heartbeat?"

Lance nods, still chewing.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Lance bites down on the skin of his thumb for a few more beats, but releases it, and Keith laces their fingers together.

"Thank you," he says, squeezing Lance's hand gently, then executes his next move. "Can I have a hug too?"

Lance wraps his other arm around Keith's torso.

"Mmm, this is really nice," Keith says, trying to keep his tone natural. Too cloying and he might tip Lance over the edge. "Today was so good, Lance. You were amazing."

Lance nods.

"I love you, I love how thoughtful you are. How good you are at taking care of me. I love when you surprise me."

Lance closes his eyes.

Keith uses his free hand to card thorough Lance's hair.

"It really was nice, how soft that stuff made your hands. I could barely feel your callouses."

"... yeah," comes a small voice from Lance.

Keith takes in the moment of relief. Lance talking means he's coming back around.

"Wanna put on some music and cuddle?" Keith asks.

"Maybe," Lance says, a little closer to his normal tone, but still shaky. Not quite there yet.

"That's okay. You let me know when you're ready," Keith says, kissing the top of Lance's head as he nods in agreement and squeezes Keith tighter.

Over his shoulder, Keith spots a familiar red ribbon on the bed.

 

**

 

A week later, that red ribbon is tied around Keith's wrists, binding him to the headboard as Lance fucks him raw and breathless.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary:
> 
> "this one's tight, yo." -maau
> 
>  
> 
> I'm [emphasis-all-mine](https://emphasis-all-mine.tumblr.com) on tumblr you can say hi.


End file.
